


No One's Gonna Love You

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Hermione can’t seem to find an empty dormitory to clean up after the final battle. The one she settles on also becomes occupied, at an inopportune time. Lavender is having trouble coping with the after effects of Greyback’s attack. Ron makes an interesting discovery during his first shower in months. Neville can’t take any more doubt from Lavender.





	No One's Gonna Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This was written for the 2009 Wizard Love fic exchange on livejournal. Lyrics by Band of Horses.

_It's looking like a limb torn off_  
Or altogether just taken apart  
We're reeling through an endless fall  
We are the ever-living ghost of what once was 

The war was over. She saw it all. She saw the Dark Lord fall, leaving behind a path of fallen friends and loved ones. She walked along the smoking rubble of her beloved school and watched the winning side - her side - dust themselves off and lick their wounds. After months, years really, of fighting, fear and overwhelming uncertainty, she could breathe. So why did her chest feel so heavy?

Hermione Granger was drowning in a multitude of emotion. She was relieved that it was finally over, that the two men she loved the most in the world had made it out. Sadness had weighed down her eyes with raw tears over so much loss, so much grief. Guilt at feeling relieved seemed to stab in her stomach at the Weasleys’ mournful faces. Hermione was almost falling over the edge of her own sadness when she caught up with Harry and Ron walking to the tower.

Walking silently, she and Ron flanked Harry, as was their custom this past year. She somberly folded her hands in front of her, gripping them tightly to keep from crying, as Harry talked about his desire for a sandwich. At least he was okay. At least he was free.

The Fat Lady simply smiled tearfully at the trio and let them pass into the common room. As she followed Harry through the portrait hole, she felt Ron’s fingers rest lightly on the small of her back. The jolt that ran through her at his touch added to the weight of her guilt. This was no time for dreams.

Hermione gave Harry a quick hug goodnight and she and Ron watched him retire to the Seventh Year dormitories. She turned and met his eyes.

He smirked a little at her, but his eyes told her how much pain he was in over losing Fred. They shone bright blue, the color accentuated by the watery presence of tears. His face was marred with cuts and bruises, his arms slashed, and his shirt torn with curse burns. Hermione wondered if she had taken as much punishment as he had in the last few hours.

He walked closer to her, brushed the hair out of her face, and kissed her softly, letting his lips linger as he held her close. When their kiss broke, they still embraced, enjoying the comfort of one another’s arms. Ginny came in soberly, and they pulled away to greet her.

“Hey Gin, you okay?” Ron asked, looking concerned. She shook her head and started sobbing. Ron put his arm around her and Hermione rubbed her back.

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up? We all need some rest,” Hermione said, guiding Ginny to the girls’ dormitory.

“No, I want to see Harry,” she said, and before anyone could comment, she rushed up the other steps without a word.

Hermione was surprised to see that it didn’t bother Ron, but concluded his mind was on more important things.

“I reckon I better clean up a bit and try to sleep,” Ron croaked, his pale skin and sunken eyes showing how tired he really was. He kissed her forehead and they parted ways.

Hermione made for the most familiar dorm, the Sixth Years, but when she approached the door she saw Neville struggling to open it, tears in his eyes.

“She won’t let me in,” he cried, looking at Hermione pleadingly.

Then, Hermione heard a blood-curdling scream. She and Neville cast ‘Alohamora’ at the same time, and the door opened.

“No! How could he love me like this? How? I’m a monster!” Lavender Brown yelled. Hermione could see a large scar over her left eye, and another one around her collarbone…courtesy of Greyback. Parvati and Padma were trying to calm her on one of the beds.

“That could never be true…” Neville whispered next to Hermione. He rushed to Lavender as she hid her face from him.

_But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do  
No one's gonna love you more than I do_

Hermione backed slowly out of the room, unable to be of any help to anyone after everything she had been through. She rushed up the steps to the Year Seven dorm.

When she found that door locked, her exhaustion increased. She cast a spell that allowed her to peek directly through the door. She gasped when she saw a very naked Bill and Fleur writhing against each other on one of the small beds.

Hermione’s head screamed at her to stop, but watching his muscular body dotted in freckles clench and dance across Fleur brought many of Hermione’s fantasies about another redhead to the front of her mind. After a few more indulgent moments, she walked weak-kneed to the Fifth Year dorm.

Meeting even more locked doors; she decided to try the boy’s dormitories. Certainly the first year one would be empty. She approached the empty room with relief. However, she soon felt irrevocably lonely. She decided to take a shower and then try to sleep away the sadness.

Hermione reached into her beaded bag to find the one clean pair of pajamas she had packed. She never even wore them, preferring to sleep in her clothes just in case. She carefully folded them and set them on a shelf next to the shower stall closest to the window. She took a fresh towel from the school cupboards, hanging it neatly on the rack. She summoned her shampoos and soaps, directing them with her wand to rest comfortably on top of the wooden walls of the stall.

Hermione delicately removed her tattered, bloodstained clothes, hanging them up gently as though they were made of silk. The small comfort and ease Ron had given her seemed to dash away as she walked by the long mirror in the corner. Her reflection was keeping her from a soothing and much needed shower. Her feet and eyes were glued to where they were.

She ran her hands sadly down her hips, over the bones protruding that she had never seen before. She was covered in deep bruises and gashes, curse burns and frightening wounds: all of which were interspersed with lingering dirt. Her body was thin and despite the fact that Hermione was always quite slender, she felt she looked unnatural. Even her eyes and skin had lost their shades of brown. Hermione moved into the shower, trying to avoid those obsessive thoughts of insecurity and loneliness that so often seemed to harp at her mind.

When she closed the curtain to her shower, she realized she had put her toiletries just out of reach. She had left her wand with her clothes, so she decided to just stand on the small shower bench to relocate her things.

The sudden creak of the door caused Hermione to crouch on the bend and hide her nakedness. She held her breath as the heavy footfalls made their way to the bathroom sink. When the sink began to run, she peeked around the curtain as the new occupant threw his shirt off.

She would recognize that map of freckles anywhere, and had to stifle a gasp when he began to remove his pants. He was like Bill, and in the same breath, so different from Bill. Ron’s shoulders were broader, but less muscular, consisting more of sinew and bone from growth spurts and foodless camping trips. Ron’s torso was longer, stretching out like a smooth road to his hips, crossed with the bones of his ribs only slightly decipherable among the definition of his body. But his sides and hips maintained some flesh. She could see the muscles of his torso as they flexed in this his back when he was leaning down to splash water on his face. He was covered in various wounds, cuts, and bruises. Hermione ached to heal him, to rub Dittany over the pain, to hold him close to her.  
 __  
And anything to make you smile  
It is my better side of you to admire  
But they should never take so long  
Just to be over then back to another one

What she heard next only deepened her longing as a choked sob escaped his lips, his reflection showing tears falling down his crumpled face.

“Fuck! Get it together!” He grunted, smashing his fist into the mirror. The shattering glass silenced Hermione’s fearful yelp. Ron swept his wand and repaired the mirror, healing his hand and meeting his own eyes. He whispered, “They need you to be strong. George needs you.”

Hermione could feel the hot sting of tears against the back of her eyes and put her hand over her mouth to keep quiet. At this point, Hermione knew she was obviously in a serious dilemma. Should she make herself known, cover up, and run from the awkward situation that was sure to arise? Or would it be better to just wait, listen to him shower, slip away undetected and dress after he left?

Or should she just join him?

The thought was meant to be laughable, but the resulting heat between her thighs almost caused her to moan. Just picturing him wet, warm, his large hands exploring her body, made Hermione both aroused and guilty. She should be grieving. She should be helping to clean up the awful mess of the castle. Despite this, her tongue still dragged across her lips at the thought of how Ron would taste with water dripping down him.

When he lowered his shorts, Hermione’s mind screamed to turn her head, but her body had other ideas. She reveled at the sight of his arse, that part of him similar to Bill, only better because it was attached to someone she had been in love with for years. And when he walked into the adjoining shower, she caught a glimpse of a nest of red hair and a line of it leading to a perfectly nestled naval. Hermione had to fight to urge to touch herself.

She heard more quiet sniffles and small sobs as Ron fiddled with the taps. Suddenly, water gushed out and splashed right on Hermione’s bare back. She was sure he heard her yelp this time, as everything seemed to freeze except for the steady streaming of water. Hermione let her feet land quietly back to the floor, and threw an arm over her breasts.

“Who’s there?” Ron’s deep, angry voice came over the edge of the wall, slightly frightened but menacing. Hermione seemed to blush all over, so embarrassed she might cry.

 

)))))((((((((((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))((((((((((((())))))))))))))))))))))

__  
But someone,  
They could have warned you  
When things start splitting at the seams and now  
The whole thing's tumbling down  
Things start splitting at the seams and now  
If things start splitting at the seams and now,  
It's tumbling down  
Hard. 

Neville walked agonizingly slowly toward Lavender as Parvati and Padma continued to comfort her, their wide, dark eyes following his every move. Lavender’s long, golden hair was like a curtain keeping her face hidden from Neville. Despite this, her head was in her hands, and Neville could see just the barest hint of a bandage.

“Please, Neville, please don’t come any closer,” she sobbed.

“Lavender, I can’t stay away. I love you,” he said, quickly not even bothering to get embarrassed as he usually would in mixed company.

“You won’t after you see me. I just don’t think I can take watching you leave right now,” she whispered, bringing her knees up to her chest.

Neville’s heart dropped into his stomach. How could she even think he could ever leave her because of some scars was beyond him. She was trembling and curled up so small, like a wilting flower. Neville wanted to hold her, care for her, nurture her. But as per her request, he stayed planted.

“I would never walk away from you. Never. Not after everything we’ve been through this year. You know how I feel about life, about love. After what my parents gave up, I would never waste my time if I didn’t know this was right.” He said, trying to muster up the very tiny bit of firmness his voice possessed.

“How can you ever be with me like this? Pity?” she cried, not looking at him so that she could keep her face hidden. “Madame Pomfrey can’t just heal me. I’ll have scars.”

“Damn it, Lavender!” he yelled. Neville was even shocked to hear his own voice rise in such a quiet setting. Parvati and Padma backed away slightly. “You should know by now that my love for you is much deeper than that.”

Lavender’s head lifted a little and he could see her fir green eyes peeking over her hand, one eye obviously sustaining an injury. Neville felt hope in finally seeing her gaze.

“If you love me, you’ll trust me. Trust that I meant to keep every promise I made you this year.” His hands were shaking. Neville was hanging by a thread of calm and hope. His makeshift force could only last through so much. He pursed his lips to keep from giving himself away.

When she didn’t say anything, but didn’t retreat back to her safe position, Neville took his chance and rushed forward. Not wanting to scare her, he just sat close to her and took her delicate hand. She squeezed it lightly, her whole arm seeming to shake.

“Hey, darling. Madame Pomfrey says that if you want to heal more quickly, you have to change your bandages every few hours. She said I could do it for you. I’ve got clean bandages, pain potion, and some salve,” he said quietly, looking down and playing with the items in his hands.

“I’m not ready for that,” she whispered.

“We can do it,” Padma said with a false brightness.

“Well…the thing is…” Neville stammered. Bugger! He used all of his bravado just to be able to sit next to her. However, she silently turned her eyes toward him again.

“Remember when the Carrows roughed me up for the third time and cut my face up with broken glass?” Neville said, with dark, inappropriate anticipation.

“Oh God!” She said, her cries starting. “I thought I was going to lose you. And then you had to hide…”she started sobbing openly again.

“I’m okay love, it’s okay,” Neville whispered, chancing to rub her back and feeling a rush of guilt at making her cry.

“Well, Professor Sprout and I worked something out, a theory we had been testing, so that I could brew some plants together in the hideout. We figured out we needed Murtlap, Dittany and a little Kingsfoil. But I couldn’t figure out the rest,” Neville said, getting excited at the memory of his discovery. “Then it hit me, a little Mandrake essence could encourage the skin back to life. After adding a bit of reduced gurdyroot, I had it.”

“Neville, what on earth are you talking about?” she asked, sounding like her old self with the tone she often reserved for one of his many herbology rants.

“I think we’ve found a way to reduce scarring. You can scarcely see the ones on my face and the one Umbridge gave Seamus has all but disappeared,” Neville finished in a whisper as hope flooded her eyes like a sudden, bright light.

“Do you think it will work on werewolf wounds?” she said, obviously still daring not to give in to even some cautious optimism.

“It wouldn’t hurt to try,” Neville said, smiling slightly as his girlfriend leaned closer to him. “But you have to let me administer it in a specific way.”

“Padma, Parvati,” Lavender nodded.

“We can stay, you can trust us” Parvati said, clinging to her desperately, a worried look on her face.

“You guys need to go get yourselves checked out,” she finished and her tone told them not to argue. Once they were alone, Lavender’s breathing quickened, and the dead silence of the room allowed Neville to hear her heart beat rapidly.

“Take some pain potion first, love, Madame Pomfrey said it works better before the changing of the bandages,” Neville said, and she took the phial in her long, gracefulfingers.

“Oh Merlin that does feel better,” she sighed, her voice clearing.

Neville took a deep breath and reached out for her hair, his own hand shaking as well. He tucked a strand behind her ear. He let his thumb linger on her undamaged cheek, rubbing soothing circles as she closed her eyes.

Her beauty struck Neville, even more so today than yesterday. The way her hair framed her long elegant face was perfection. She had a strong jaw and almond eyes, with a perfectly fitting nose. The bandage covered half of her eye, all of her cheek, and some of her chin. Her graceful, small mouth remained in tact.

“Oh Lavender,” Neville whispered, running his thumb along her pink lips.

“Nevvy,” she whimpered, kissing his hand. Neville didn’t cringe at this nickname anymore, now it made him feel sort of special.

Neville reached to start undoing her bandages, but she pushed his hands away and began doing it herself. He got out the small glass jar of his new concoction.

When he looked up, she had removed the entire bandage, fear evident in her eyes. It took all Neville had not to cry out, to maintain his demeanor. She didn’t repulse him; he was just destroyed at seeing so much pain inflicted on his Lavender. He longed to take her pain away. He wanted to make it his own.

There were four distinct gashes from her temple to her chin, one cutting across the corner of her eye. They still slowly dripped small amounts of blood, unable to be instantly healed by conventional means. Madame Pomfrey said it would take weeks to even close the wounds all the way. As Neville stared at her face, the fear in her eyes began to magnify.

He kissed her gently, not wanting to hurt her, but wanting to show her that he would love her forever. It was a good sign that she leaned into his kiss.

He dipped two fingers into the concoction and circled her wound, creating a perimeter around half of her face. He repeated this until all four gashes were barely visible and the blood was disappearing. He rubbed in circles with his whole hand, clockwise and with slight pressure. Then, he leaned in close to her and blew the mixture dry.

As it dried, the wounds closed and healed, leaving in their wake thick, pink scars. Neville felt victorious and hopeful for the third time that night.

Lavender saw his smile, and immediately leapt over to the mirror. She seemed to fall apart all over again. Before Neville could tell her that it takes a few applications, she had disapparated.  
 _  
But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do  
No one's gonna love you more than I do_

**Part II:**  
  
Ron Weasley froze, frightened and a little embarrassed that he had trotted around naked while someone else sat silently in a stall. Either this person was going to attack him, or they were staring at him; any way he looked at it, Ron was more than afraid of what he would find on the other side. He grabbed his wand, turned around, and pointed it at his unwanted voyeur.

When the mess of brown curls appeared as he gazed carefully over the adjoining wall, Ron shrieked and stumbled back a little. He felt relief when he realized that he must be hallucinating, then panic at the fact that he was now going mental. He saw her feet under the stall as she rose onto her tiptoes, though her eyes still didn’t reach high enough to see.

“Ron?” Hermione’s voice was timid. “Are you okay?”

“Either I’m completely barmy or there’s a naked Hermione in the shower next to me,” Ron said with false calm. He figured he might as well go along with the delusion.

“Why do those have to be mutually exclusive options?” she giggled. Giggled! In the middle of a shower! While he was naked on the other side! “Still,” Ron said, “that’s an awfully big word for a delusion of mine to be using,” he quipped, walking toward her side.

“Maybe your delusions are as clueless as you, in which case, I say ‘stay crazy’,” she quipped.

“Excuse me? I’m not the one taking a shower in the boys’ dorm!” Ron said, looking down at her.

“But you’re the one who thinks he’s talking to himself,” she said, meeting his eyes. “I think your mental acuity is the question of the hour.”

Her hand was draped across her surprisingly full breasts. “School jumpers don’t do any justice,” Ron thought. Her shoulders looked so smooth and dark, like tea with milk, and he nearly groaned with the urge to taste her. He caught himself staring and looked back up at her, only to find her blushing and looking away.

“Well Miss Modest, one of us will just have to leave,” he said, though his voice shook as he fought against the erection looming in his groin. All he had to do was walk over there and take her.

“I was here first!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest. Ron had to resist touching himself when he imagined what lay just out of his view.

“I’m a man! And I’m already wet!” he exclaimed, unable to hold back a smile. After the horrible day he’d had, talking to Hermione like this made everything feel right. Ron could have sworn he saw her lick her lips when he said he was wet, but he still hadn’t ruled out delusion. She bit her lip, thinking of her retort, shifting her hair over her shoulder.

“Well, Ron Weasley, no one can match such a witty remark as ‘I’m wet’, so I guess I shall be on my way,” she said, a small smile on her lips.

As her hair slipped further off her shoulder, Ron caught sight of a long gash stretching from the tip of one of her breasts to the opposite arm. His body shook slightly with anger, but it slowly faded into concern.

“Oh ‘Mione,” he said, reaching out to rub the area, forgetting their nudity for a moment. She closed her eyes and put her hand over his for a few seconds.

“It’s nothing, I can heal it after I shower. I didn’t want to bug Madam Pomfrey with all of that,” she said, taking one hand and holding his. “Besides, you have some too.”

Ron looked down at his own body and, for the first time, he really noticed how battered he looked. Then, something even more engrossing hit him: Hermione had watched him, had seen him naked. His entire body felt like it was on fire. When he met her eyes again, they were wide, and her cheeks very pink. He saw the panic begin to rise in her face and his amazement waned.

“Cheeky witch, sneaking a peek,” he murmured, grinning at her as he turned to wet his hair down. She smiled brightly at him.

“Well, I best be going to find another shower, could you close your eyes?” she asked softly.

“What? I don’t’ get a peek? That hardly seems fair!” he exclaimed, despite facing the corner and putting his hand over his eyes.

“Life isn’t fair,” she whispered, her bare footsteps padding away.

Ron didn’t know what came over him, but as he watched her gather her things and walk out, he saw Fred, that locket, Remus and Tonks, Hermione’s limp body, and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hermione?”

She froze. “Yes Ron?”

“Can you come back here when you’ve finished? I don’t really want to be alone tonight, and I can’t face…them,” he started, his jaw shaking. “I need you.”

Ron thought that she had gone, had left without a word, and his whole body felt like it was sinking. He turned back to face the water and try to wash some of his lingering emotions away, however futile that may be.

Suddenly, he felt a cold rush of air, and turned to find Hermione, wrapped in her towel, standing with a shocked look on her face, gripping the curtain.  
 __  
Anything to make you smile  
You are the ever-living ghost of what once was  
I never want to hear you say  
That you'd be better off  
Or you liked it that way

Ron didn’t even think of getting embarrassed. Instead, he closed the gap between them, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her with everything good left in him. She stood frozen for a moment before he felt her arms slide across his wet back. Her hands traveled all over him, from his shoulders to his waist as he cupped her cheek and slid his tongue over her lips.

When she opened her mouth, Ron moaned and could feel his erection begin to throb painfully against her towel. He wanted to press her back against the shower wall and fuck her with abandon, but he knew that would be impossible, and he wouldn’t even know the first thing about doing that anyway. Instead, he began to run his hands along her back, her skin slick and soft. She moaned when he took the chance and let his long arms move down so he could run his hands over her round bum. Her body pressed more firmly against his, and she pulled away from his mouth to catch her breath.

She looked transcendent with her hair falling in shining tendrils around her face and her lips swollen and pink. Ron ran his hands over her cheek, down and her neck, and stopped at her most prominent wound.

“Do you want me to fix that for you?” he said, reaching for his wand. “I’m quite good at these actually, living with Fred and George for so long.”

“I never said you weren’t good at them,” she whispered. Ron watched, frozen, as her shaking hands began to loosen the towel.

“I don’t need you to move that if you don’t want to,” he whispered, his arm still around her.

She kissed him, and he got lost again in her, soon feeling her bare flesh against his. Ron ran his wand carefully across her bare chest, trying to concentrate hard on only the wound. Soon, a light pink scar was all that remained on her wet skin. Ron clenched his fist to stop his hand from trembling before reaching out to touch the scar, his fingers dancing across the tips of her breasts as she closed her eyes.

Ron kissed her as he set the palm of his hand against her nipple. She moaned and arched her back. Feeling braver, he began to kiss her neck, intending to let his lips taste those perfect mounds, when his lips passed over a small scar on her neck. He paused to run a thumb over it, remembering where Bellatrix’s silver blade had spilled Hermione’s blood. What would he have done if she died? He leaned down to rest his face on her shoulder, her pulse proving her life on his lips.

He reached up and fingered the scar gently; remembered her cries of pain, her limp form in his arms as he ran frantically to Bill’s front door. He felt her hand lift his, and as he opened his eyes, she began kissing his palm and fingertips, water pouring down their faces like tears.

“I think it’s my turn to heal you,” she said, turning him to face the wall. Ron knew from the sting of the water that he had a smattering of injuries on his back. He put his hands up on the wall so that he could lean slightly and she could see it all. The sting was soon a dull throb.

He felt her hands move up and down his sides then, playing against the current of water cascading down his skin. Her lips grazed across his shoulder blades, and he could fell her hard nipples pressed up against him. His arms flexed and he pushed against the wall. It was all he could do to keep from thrusting into the nothingness in front of him. When her hands landed on his arse, he moaned loudly and his hips jerked forward.

Her hands gripped his hips from behind, and he let out a hoarse cry when he felt her tongue run up his spine.

“You’re beautiful, Ron,” she whispered. “You’re alive, you’re okay, you’re real, and you’re here with me.” She reached his shoulder again, kissing the dent in his upper arm. Suddenly, her hand lightly wrapped around his throbbing cock.

“Oh!” he yelled, continuing to moan as his fists balled against the stone wall.

Her hand moved up and down his shaft slowly, as her other ran along his ribcage. He could feel his stomach curling and his body getting ready to release, but he wanted to see her face again before he came. He wanted to be sure this was all real after everything they had been through.

He turned to kiss Hermione again, her hand left his erection, causing an ache. Ron’s clouded mind was quick to courage and filled with desire as the water soothed their war torn bodies.

Ron moved to the small bench and sat down, pulling Hermione close to him and taking her breast into his mouth as she moaned and writhed in front of him He wrapped a hand around her waist and leaned up to whisper in her ear, his entire body throbbing with want.

“Spread your legs for me, Hermione. I want to touch you,” he croaked.

She moaned and parted her shaking knees, her arm draped over his shoulder for support. Ron ran his hands over her hips, his nerves fighting with his body. He slid a finger between her lips and she cried out in pleasure as he moaned at the hot, slick feeling on his fingertips. He found her entrance and chanced a finger inside of her. The feeling of her walls engulfing him was mind-blowing, and Ron reveled in being able to feel Hermione as she moaned and gripped his shoulder harder.

“Tell me what to do, I want to make you feel good,” he groaned, continuing to penetrate her with his finger while he kissed her neck.

“More,” she whimpered, and Ron inserted a second finger into her, feeling powerful as he stretched her tight walls and she dug her nails into his back. She reached down and began to touch herself just above his fingers, and his mind yelled, “She already knows how to make herself come!” He let his thumb dance with her fingers until she let go and gripped his other shoulder.

Soon, he could feel her grip tightening and her muscles spasm. The flesh around his fingers clenched, and he pushed harder against them. She cried out his name until the movement stopped and she melted onto his knee.

It was the most wonderful thing Ron had ever done, and that included riding on the back of a dragon. He loved being able to do that to her, to have the power to give her something she wanted. He looked up at her adoringly, planting kisses on her neck.

His cock ached, begging for release, and his hand went to it of its own volition.

“Mmmm,” she shook her head, her eyes staring lazily at him. Then she did something Ron had only ever imagined in his wildest fantasies, safely locked away in his room.

Hermione dropped to her knees and Ron gripped the bench, quivering before she even touched him. When her tongue darted across his head, he moaned, thinking his entire body might turn into fire. As soon as her lips wrapped around his shaft, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Hermione…I…” he said, before moaning loudly. She closed her cheeks around him as he spilled, and he felt her swallow him as his eyes rolled back.

When he sat up, her beautiful head was resting on his knee, gazing at him with tenderness. He smiled and took a wet strand of hair out of her eyes. She stood up, her curvy body reaching over and shutting off the taps. Ron summoned two school towels. He wrapped her in one, closing it with his arms tightly around her.

“Supposed we had to get out of the shower sometime, huh?” She sighed sadly. “I am starting to wrinkle,” she held up her hand.

“Yeah, apparently we’re not waterproof,” Ron mocked as she turned around to swat him playfully. He pulled her close to his chest. “You are amazing, love. Sorry I didn’t…well…sorry it wasn’t…” he whispered.

“Ron, it was perfect,” she snuggled in closer to him.

“Well, you are perfect at everything,” he said mockingly.

“There’s a reason it’s called The Restricted Section,” she said slyly, making her way to her pajamas.

Ron dried and dressed quickly, curling up under the red and gold blankets as soon as he could. Hermione climbed in after him, leaning her back against his chest. He was still heartbroken, but everything finally felt like it was going to be okay as he pressed his face against her messy curls.

“I love you so much, Hermione Granger,” he said softly. She gripped his hands in front of her.

“I love you too, more than anything.”

_But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do  
No one's gonna love you more than I do_

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Lavender sat alone on one of the fluffy cushions in the Divination Tower, letting the candles she lit dull her senses a little bit, though it didn’t do anything for her heart. She balanced a crystal ball in her hand, gazing at a distorted image of her face with hopelessness. She didn’t deserve him. How could he even love her? She ran a finger across her scars and felt her tears beginning to form again. She looked intently at the ball, hoping for any glimpse of her future, but all she saw was the ugliness of gray smoke. She knew she was doomed to ugliness.

She heard the familiar clicking of soles on the ladder leading up to the entrance, and knew it was Neville. She knew he would eventually find her and wondered to herself if she wanted to be found. Lavender turned her back to the small window and moved her hair to guard her face. This would be her mask from now on.

She felt the cushion dip down next to her, and then Neville’s warm, lightly stubbled cheek pressed against her back through her dressing gown. She closed her eyes, remembering how wonderful his face felt in her hands. He took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her waist; she pressed her forehead against the cool stained glass of the window, holding his hands closely to her as she began to cry again.

“Lavender, I love you deeply. Yes, I love your beauty; it takes my breath away, and still does at this very moment, but I also love you because you’re smart… Miss “I got 9 O.W.L.S.!” You pretend to care about my barmy experiments. You helped me squeeze the mandrakes even though Parvati got that manicure set!”

Lavender’s stomach shook with sobs and she tried to move away from his affection, but he just held onto her more tightly.

“I love you because you’re funny. Your Stubby Boardman impression is remarkably good,” he chuckled.

“I love you because you gave yourself to me on Christmas Eve, and trusted me with something so special,” he whispered, his hand ghosting across her thigh. “Please trust me now,” he said, impossibly softly.

“I love you because of the way you look at me: like I’m the most important bloke in the room,” he said, kissing her neck and trying to get to her face. Lavender took his moment of weakness as a chance and leapt up.

“And how are you ever going to be able to look at me the same way again?” she cried as she made her way to the exit.

_But someone,_  
They could have warned you  
When things start splitting at the seams and now  
The whole thing's tumbling down  
  
Suddenly, her back hit the wall and Neville had his long arms pinning hers down so that she couldn’t get away.

“Like this,” he said. His light blue eyes swept over her face, and she closed hers, feeling exposed, unsafe. “Lavender, please look at me,” he coaxed, running his thumbs over the sensitive parts of her wrists.

He was so beautiful. His round face had chiseled out, but only some, leaving a softened look to his features. He now towered over her, and his arms and shoulders were thick. She imagined the familiar plane of his chest, defined but not too muscular. She wanted to badly to give in as his eyes stayed locked on her face, that she didn’t turn away from his kiss and instead let it linger like comfort on her lips.

“I’ve loved you for even longer than I’ve ever admitted. I can’t lose you. I can’t let you pull away from me. You have my heart,” he spoke softly in her ear, resting his face against her injured cheek. He kissed behind her ear again. She moaned in pleasure and relief.

In response, Neville’s body pressed harder against her as he kissed her passionately, still holding tightly to her wrists. Her breasts felt glorious against him and she arched her body. She felt his erection against her hip and she moaned again. He wanted her, even now, and her legs began to shake with need.

“Mmm. You feel what you do to me, love? I need you. I need you so badly. I almost lost you,” he groaned.

“Neville,” she whimpered, writhing against him.

He let go of her wrists and reached underneath her dressing gown. He quickly removed her panties and started undoing his belt. She heard his pants hit the floor and wrapped her arms around his neck when he kissed her again. This felt different, but not unwelcome. Usually, he was tender and careful, but as his hands cupped her breasts, she could feel the desperation, the anxious need, as a tangible thing.

Neville licked his fingers and slipped them into her, but there was no need, she wanted him just as much. Her body clenched and a jolt when through her. She needed him, she need to feel him filling her. She needed to know he wasn’t going anywhere.

He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him as he settled her against the wall. He reached down between them and she felt the head of his cock slide along her lips. This caused her to moan deeply. She reached down and guided him in as his hand spread her open from his grip no her arse. He entered her rapidly until his flesh was pressed against her exposed clit. She cried out, gripping his shoulder as he moaned in a low, gravely voice. She kissed every inch of him she could reach as his cock kept moving in and out of her with force and speed like she’d never felt.

He nipped lightly at her neck, and she could feel herself begin to climax. He felt it too, and slammed into her hips, her body slapping hard against the brick walls of the tower.

“Come for me, Lavender. I love you. I’m not going anywhere. Let go,” he urged, his own pace losing some rhythm as his member throbbed inside of her.

Her legs tightened around him as her thighs pushed him inside of her as far as he could go. He yelled out in ecstasy when she clenched around him and her body quivered with release. She whispered his name, keeping his face close to hers.

When his hips finally slowed and he spilled into her, she could feel him bury his face deep in her neck and let out a sob. He pulled back to meet her with a tearful stare.

“I almost lost you. I need you. I’ll never walk away,” he whispered, picking her up easily and laying her down on a fluffy set of cushions after he pulled out of her.

“I love you, Neville. I’m sorry. I trust you. I can’t live without you either,” she cried, facing him and pulling his chest against hers. He kissed her scars, wrapped his arm around her, and they both drifted off into an easy and long awaited sleep.

_But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do  
No one's gonna love you more than I do_


End file.
